


The Mountains of the Moon

by White_Squirrel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clueless Dumbledore, F/M, Grimmauld Place, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Leaving Britain, Ministry of Magic, Outsmarting the Ministry, Political Asylum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14041068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Squirrel/pseuds/White_Squirrel
Summary: Hermione comes up with a contingency plan for Harry’s Ministry hearing, and they decide their education can be better pursued elsewhere—at the largest and oldest school of magic in the world: Uagadou. Voldemort won’t know what hit him. Harry/Hermione.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.
> 
> Part of this story is quoted from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
> 
> Harmony fans rejoice! I’ve been planning a Harry/Hermione story for a while, and this is the one. There are a lot of these stories out there, but surprisingly, there aren’t that many that start it off just before Harry’s hearing at the Ministry, which I think is the most natural point in the series to do it. Here’s my take on it with a classic get-out-of-dodge plan added in.
> 
> I was originally considering making this a novella-length or even a novel-length story. However, I eventually decided to leave it as a two-shot. To be honest I was never all that excited about the continuation of this story despite reader interest, and I deliberately wrote it so that could stand as a two-shot as is for exactly that reason. I was somewhat interested, and I kept it on my list because of reader interest, but my writing priorities have shifted a bit. This would have been a complicated story to write, even though it would be a relatively short one, and I don’t really feel like putting in the effort to build the new world of Uagadou City well enough to do it justice. I still like the idea, but I have too many other projects I want to work on as it is, including some original writing, and I think it would be better let this one go.
> 
> That said, if anyone else wants to write a continuation of this story, feel free to PM me, and we can discuss it further.

_Ron was standing there with his mouth half-open, clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say, while Hermione looked on the verge of tears._

_“BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT’S BEEN HAPPENING?”_

_“Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did—” Hermione began._

_“CAN’T’VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU’D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT_ DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR _—_ _”_

_“Well, he did—”_

_“FOUR WEEKS I’VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF THE BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT’S BEEN GOING ON—”_

But Hermione didn’t retort. To his shock, she dropped to her knees and started sobbing uncontrollably. Harry’s anger started to flag as he saw his friend’s distress and then faded rapidly when she choked out, “OH MY GOD, IT’S ALL MY FAULT! I’M SUCH AN _ARSE_!”

Harry stared down at her, wide-eyed, unsure of what to do. The last time he’d seen Hermione like this had been in third year when she’d been running herself ragged for _months_ with her Time Turner.

“Er, Hermione?” he said.

“Harry, we wanted to tell you,” she sobbed, “but _I_ said we should talk to Dumbledore about it and get permission first, so…We tried, Harry. We really did. But we couldn’t even _talk_ to him most of the time, let alone try to convince him. Even when we saw Dumbledore, he barely gave us the time of day. I fought him when I got a chance—both of us did. We begged him to do something—to get you out of there or to let us tell you something. But he said it would be safest if you stayed at your relatives’ house, and if we didn’t tell you anything. We asked him why, but he didn’t answer. We told him you’d get restless and do something stupid, but he wouldn’t listen. I was furious, and I knew you’d be even more furious, but I still believed him. I believed he was right that you’d be safer that way because he’s _Dumbledore_ , and then…AND THEN YOU TOLD US YOU WERE ATTACKED BY BLOODY _DEMENTORS,_ AND YOU MIGHT BE EXPELLED! I was so scared I might never see you again, Harry, and it’s all my fault! I should have just ignored Dumbledore from the start! I should’ve written you more or…or…”

Harry finally moved, crouching down beside her and awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. He hadn’t really meant to make her cry, and she was doing a good job of making him feel terrible about it. “I—I’m sorry, Hermione, I didn’t know,” he said.

She sniffed. “I’m such a horrible friend.”

“No, I…I don’t think that,” Harry stammered. “I mean, look at everything you’ve done for me. I was just so mad about not hearing anything. I mean, _I_ _’m_ the one Voldemort’s trying to kill. _I_ _’m_ the one in the middle of all this. Shouldn’t I know what’s going on?”

“Of course you should Harry,” Hermione collected herself. “That’s what we said. I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking. And I just took his word as gospel and ruined everything…! Am I too trusting, Harry?”

“Um…kinda, yeah,” he admitted uncomfortably, “but still, Dumbledore’s usually been trying to help me. I don’t know what he was thinking, either.”

Ron finally jumped back in: “Mind you, Mum’s been pretty keen on keeping _us_ out of the loop, too. Says we’re too young and all that crud.”

“Oh, your mum’s here, too?” Harry said, helping Hermione up. “Where is here, anyway?”

“Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” Ron said.

Harry shot a glare at him, but a weak one. “Should that mean something to me?” he said.

“Well, no, I guess it wouldn’t. It’s like a secret society.”

“Dumbledore started it,” Hermione said. “They fought against You-Know-Who last time.”

“Alright, what’re they doing, then? And what’s Voldemort up to, for that matter?”

“We don’t know much,” Ron said apologetically. “They don’t let us in the meetings. Fred and George invented these Extendable Ears to listen in, but Mum went berserk when she found out.”

“They’ve got Order members following known Death Eaters,” Hermione added. “And some working on recruiting. And they’re guarding something, too.”

“That was me, according to Mrs. Figg,” Harry said.

“Oh, right, of course.”

Harry was about to ask what the two of them were doing all summer when he was interrupted by two loud cracks, and Fred and George appeared in the middle of the room.

“Stop _doing_ that!” Hermione shouted.

“Better be careful, Fred,” George said with a grin. “She’s got a temper, that one.”

“So I heard,” Fred replied. “Hullo, Harry, we thought we recognised your dulcet tones. Hermione here was a bit of a surprise, though. She’s got a real set of pipes on her.”

Hermione glared at them with a hurt look. On seeing this, Harry said, “Hey, give her a break, guys. She was really freaking out.”

“Ha. _I_ was freaking out?” she said, forcing a weak laugh. “I’m not the one who got attacked by d-dementors in broad daylight.”

“I’m fine, Hermione, really,” Harry said. “I mean, it was bloody close, but that was mostly because—erk!” He grunted as she grabbed him in a tight hug.

“Harry, you need to stop almost getting killed,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“Oh, hi, Harry. Am I interrupting something?” another voice called. Harry looked up and saw a smiling Ginny Weasley leaning against the door frame. He flinched back from Hermione and blushed heavily, but before he could answer, she turned to Fred and George and said, “Don’t bother with the Extendable Ears. Mum put an Imperturbable Charm on the door.”

“Dang,” Fred said. “We wanted to find out what old Snape was up to.”

“Snape’s here?” Harry said.

“Yeah, giving a report,” George said. “Top secret.”

Harry remembered the memories from Dumbledore’s Pensieve last spring. “Oh, that’s right. He was a spy in the last war, wasn’t he?.”

Hermione nodded: “Yes. He started back up right away. There are always a lot of people coming through here for the order—Sirius and Remus, of course. McGonagall, Moody, some Aurors. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Bill and Charlie…”

“And Percy?” Harry asked.

Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say. The mood turned tense at once, and the younger Weasleys explained in great detail how Percy had sided with the Ministry against Dumbledore and, therefore, his own family. It was a pretty sore spot.

“Percy said the only evidence You-Know-Who is back is your word,” Ron said. “And…well…”

“Your word doesn’t carry as far as it ought to,” Hermione said. “Not with what people are saying about you.”

“What are people saying about me?” Harry demanded, his temper rising again.

“Haven’t you been reading the _Daily Prophet_?” Hermione asked nervously.

“I _thought_ I was, but I never saw anything about me _or_ Voldemort. Is Dumbledore messing with that, too?”

“No! I’m sure he’s not, Harry. It’s just that it’s subtle. They…they crack a joke about you once or twice a week. They act like you’re…well, delusional and attention-seeking is the only way I can put it. Like if something weird happens, they’ll call it ‘a tale worthy of Harry Potter.’ You kind of have to read between the lines, but they want people to get the impression that you’re hooked on being famous, and you’ll say anything to get attention.”

“That’s insane!” Harry shouted. “Voldemort killed my parents! How can they think that I—”

“Harry, please calm down,” Hermione said, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. “ _We_ know none of that drivel about you is true. But you can’t do anything about the rest of it—not yet—not with the Ministry out to get you like this. They don’t have a case to expel you. They don’t even have the _right_ to expel you, but the fact that they’re trying—”

“And the fact that I got attacked by dementors?” he interrupted. “Did they mention that?”

“Of course not. That’s a straight cover-up. They’d never admit to losing control of the dementors—or worse. The fear of losing control of them is what got them removed in third year after they tried to Kiss us, even though Sirius was supposedly still on the loose. But you need to get through this hearing first. They’re going to try to railroad you. I just know it. You need to try to stay on their good side. If there are enough law-abiding people in the DMLE, they should put a stop to it, then.”

Harry stewed, but didn’t say anything more. A minute later, Mrs. Weasley came into the bedroom. “The meeting is over,” she told them. “Come along to dinner. Everyone’s dying to see you, Harry, we’ve been so worried.”

The Weasleys picked themselves up and headed downstairs, but Harry and Hermione lingered back, neither of them too keen to stay with the larger group.

“Harry, I am _so_ sorry about not writing to you,” Hermione repeated, “but I’m here for you, now. Any help you need with the hearing, I’m there. I’ve already got some law books from Sirius’s library.”

Harry sighed. He was feeling too worn-out to be angry now, at least not at Hermione. He smiled weakly at her. “Thanks,” he said. “It sounds like I’m gonna need it.”

* * *

 

Dinner was actually pleasant. Harry got to know some of the other Order members better and get a feel for what they were doing. Don’t-Call-Me-Nymphadora Tonks was a Metamorphmagus, which basically meant she was a brilliant mistress of disguise. Bill Weasley was trying to negotiate with the goblins, who were unhappy because of centuries of oppression by the Ministry and because Ludo Bagman had swindled them out of a sizable sum of gold. Mundungus Fletcher was a con artist who really shouldn’t have been allowed to roam free, but Dumbledore put up with him because he had an ear on all the other crooks. Sirius was unfortunately stuck in the house because the Ministry was still after him. The real tension came after dinner, when Mrs. Weasley and Sirius got into an argument when Sirius tried to tell him more about the Order.

“Dumbledore says we shouldn’t tell Harry more than he _needs to know_ ,” Mrs. Weasley said, emphasising the last three words as if there were some special significance to them.

“I’m not telling him more than he _needs to know_ , Molly,” Sirius shot back. Harry felt uncomfortable that he seemed to be buying into the same concern of Dumbledore’s, whatever it was. “But considering he’s survived more tangles with _Voldemort_ than any of us besides Dumbledore, he has a _right_ to know.”

The argument went on for a while, and Harry didn’t fully understand all of it. Mrs. Weasley was playing the overprotective mother card at least as much as invoking Dumbledore’s orders. Harry really wanted to give the old man a piece of his mind by now, but he did get to learn a few more things. Fred and George were also allowed to stay over Mrs. Weasley’s strenuous objections because they were of age, and Ron pointed out that Harry would tell him and Hermione everything anyway. Ginny got the short end of it because Ron hadn’t included her in that statement, even though they’d tell her too. Ron got a taste of Ginny’s wrath when she “accidentally” brought her heel down hard on his foot on the way out of the kitchen, with the promise of more to come.

In the end, though, it turned out there wasn’t much more for Harry to know. There wasn’t any news about Voldemort because he was lying low and trying not to attract attention while he built up his forces. Harry wasn’t supposed to have survived the graveyard to announce his return. Unfortunately, Minister Fudge was unwittingly doing everything he could to help Voldemort by denying everything and spouting paranoid nonsense that Dumbledore was after his job, and Dumbledore himself had had most of his titles and awards taken away for speaking the truth.

And there was some clue that Voldemort was after something he didn’t have last time, possibly something that the Order was guarding besides Harry. But Mrs. Weasley was adamant that wasn’t something Harry _needed to know_. Harry was unhappy, but Remus, who was acting as the voice of reason in all this, agreed with her, and she sent them all off to bed, not even letting them talk to each other, not that that stopped them.

* * *

 

The next day, Mrs. Weasley had all of them busy cleaning. This was questionably legal, Harry thought, because the House of Black was in such bad shape that in the muggle world, it would probably be sealed off by the Health and Safety Commission and only allowed to be touched by professionals. Harry got the feeling that she was trying to keep them busy so that they wouldn’t talk about the Order, even though that was going rather far to try to keep them in the dark, not to mention being ineffective.

Eventually, Mrs. Weasley got distracted, and Sirius wandered into the Drawing Room to have a chat with Harry. However, he seemed less interested in talking about the Order at the moment and more interested in reminiscing about the family tapestry that filled the walls. Harry noted that Sirius wasn’t on it.

“I used to be on it,” he told him. “Down there.” He pointed to what looked like a large cigarette burn near the bottom. “Mother dearest blasted me off the tapestry when I ran away from home.”

“You ran away from home?” Harry said.

“Yeah, when I was sixteen. I’d had enough. I hated my parents and everything they stood for, and I didn’t want to wind up like my brother, believing every word of it.”

“Where did you go?” Harry asked. Maybe he could get some pointers if something went wrong with this place (which seemed likely at the rate they were going). He’d tried it once before, after all, although that hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected.

“Your dad’s place,” Sirius answered. “Your grandparents were really good about it. Didn’t like my parents any more than I did.”

“Wow.” Harry looked over the tapestry and quickly came to realise it was covered in similar burn marks.

“Yeah, it’s not as majestic as you’d think, is it?” Sirius said with a conspiratorial grin. “You know what the dirty secret of the old pureblood families is, Harry?”

“What?” he said.

“We’re not really pureblooded. Families like mine? They disown any family member who doesn’t do what they’re told. Pretend they don’t exist. Me? I left because I didn’t agree with them or their ideas.” He pointed to another nearby burn mark. “Uncle Alphard? He was a Black in good standing…until he left me a fair bit of money in his will. Cousin Andromeda was over there.” Harry saw a burn mark between Bellatrix Lestrange, the Death Eater whose trial he had seen in Dumbledore’s Pensieve, and Narcissa Malfoy, Draco’s mother. “She’s Tonks’s mother. She was disowned for marrying a muggle-born. Great Uncle Marius was a squib, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he has kids or grandkids who are magical. And suddenly, there are Blacks running around who aren’t so pureblooded anymore, and all Mum and Dad could do was just ignore them. Phineas Black supported muggle rights. Cedrella Black married a pureblood, but his surname was Weasley—Arthur’s parents. Go back all these generations, and I bet I have more relatives who’ve been written _out_ of the family than are still in it.”

Harry stared at the tapestry in surprise. And he thought _his_ relatives were bad. Sirius’s family looked like it had been broken for centuries. He looked back down at Sirius’s brother. “What happened to Regulus?”

“Stupid idiot. He joined the Death Eaters.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope. He bought into it. All of it. And then—I’m guessing—he got cold feet when it came time to actually get his hands dirty. Tried to leave. I bet you can guess how Voldemort deals with people like him.”

Harry didn’t have to guess. He’d seen Voldemort torture his own followers in that graveyard for disloyalty, and those were the ones who actually came back.

He wished he had somewhere he could go, like Sirius did. Well, he already did, really. The Weasleys would be happy to have him every holiday, he was sure. But Dumbledore kept telling him he had to go back to the Dursleys, so he knew he wouldn’t be able to run away so easily. Even if he got expelled…He stopped and asked Sirius if he could live with him if that happened. Sirius had offered it himself once before, but he didn’t seem to be so committed now, and that was probably Dumbledore’s doing. Harry wasn’t sure what to think about Dumbledore right now. The man _had_ kept him from being expelled right away, but he’d also told his friends not to contact him over the summer, and he was still angrier about that than anything else. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

* * *

 

It took three days just to make the Drawing Room safe for human habitation. Meanwhile, between all the work they were doing and trying to spend some time with Sirius, Harry barely noticed that he was seeing less and less of Hermione. Of course, she’d been talking to him a lot about magical laws and everything he would need to know about his upcoming hearing, and he really didn’t want to think about that at the moment. He tried to be friendly with her, but she’d been disappearing more and more in the evenings and not really interacting with anyone. He was worried that she was still feeling guilty about not writing to him over the summer, but when he approached her, she looked more like she was in one of her obsessed-with-a-big-project moods…which, knowing her, wasn’t a whole lot better.

“Hermione, school hasn’t started yet, and I _know_ you’ve got your homework done by now,” Harry told her. “What are you so busy with?”

“Huh? Oh, your hearing, Harry,” she said. “I wanted to do more…”

“I think you’ve done all you can,” he said. “You must have read every law book in the house by now.”

“I know, but I’m still worried. The Ministry’s not supposed to be able to expel you. It was textbook self-defence. But they might do it anyway. I wanted to find some other contingency, so I…”

Harry saw the uncomfortable look on her face as she trailed off. He wasn’t sure he liked it. “Hermione, what did you do?” he asked.

She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. I should have talked to you sooner,” she said quickly. “I know I need to be better at actually telling you things, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I had something to show for it. I didn’t commit you to anything, please understand. I just wanted to find out what the options were—”

“Hermione what are you talking about?” he cut her off.

She took a deep breath: “Harry, if you could leave Hogwarts and go someplace people would actually treat you decently, would you?”

“…What?”

“I know how much you love Hogwarts, but be honest: it’s been a mixed bag for you. Near-death experiences on a regular basis, the student body turning on you at the drop of a hat, unhelpful teachers…Snape…And now the Ministry’s trying to silence you. Do you ever wonder if it’s not worth it anymore?”

Harry’s jaw hit the floor. Hermione Granger saying Hogwarts wasn’t worth it. He actually drew his wand. “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?” he said suspiciously.

“Harry!” she backed up a little. “I didn’t mean dropping out! I meant switching schools.”

He lowered his wand. “Switching schools?”

“Yes. Listen, I looked into it, and there’s only so much they can do at your hearing. They can snap your wand, sure, and they can ban you from carrying a new one so you couldn’t well go back to Hogwarts, but they can’t ban you from the magical world or prevent you from travelling overseas or anything like that. So I thought, if it all falls apart at your hearing, maybe you could go to some other magical school. If we could find a place that will actually give you a _fair_ hearing, they could revoke your wand ban and let you attend there.”

Harry’s heart leapt like he hadn’t felt in a long time. He had another chance if he lost the hearing? Another chance to escape the Dursleys and to keep learning magic? That would be perfect. “Hermione, you’re brilliant,” he said. “Absolutely brilliant. You really think they’d take me?”

She flashed a knowing smile at him: “Honestly, you’re Harry Potter. Your name may be mud in Britain right now, but you’re famous enough in other countries, and you’re an up-and-coming Quidditch star, too. That’s enough for a lot of people to be willing to give you a chance.”

“Seriously? Wow. Okay, so all we need to do is write to the heads of some other schools and ask if they’ll take me?”

“Actually…I’ve already sent the letters,” she said. She looked up at him sheepishly, unsure how he would respond.

To her relief, he merely rolled his eyes. “Of course you have, Hermione.” He patted her on the shoulder. “How many letters?”

“Eight,” she said, colouring slightly. “Unfortunately, there are only eleven well-recognised schools of magic in the world. Durmstrang doesn’t accept muggle-borns, and the Japanese school doesn’t take non-native students, so that leaves us with eight.”

“And…?”

She grinned and held up a letter: “Uagadou School of Magic in Uganda is interested.”

Harry’s jaw dropped again, and then, not quite sure why, he began laughing uncontrollably. Hermione came through for him yet again, before he’d even known to ask for help. He’d have to do something _really_ nice for her when all this is over. “Thank you,” he said once he caught his breath. “Uganda. Bloody hell. Thank you so much, Hermione. I’m sorry I yelled at you so much before.”

“Don’t be, Harry. I deserved it for how I treated you. I did this to try to make it up to you.”

“You did more than that. This is the best news I’ve gotten since I got here…” Suddenly, a thought struck him. “Wait, what about Sirius?” he said.

She blinked in confusion: “What about him?”

“Well, I don’t want to leave him behind. If we can find a country that’ll give _me_ a fair shake, do you think we’d be able to do the same for him?”

A look of shock crossed Hermione’s face. “Political asylum,” she whispered. “Harry, you’re a genius!” She leapt forward and hugged him.

“I am?”

“Yes. Sirius never received a trial, and the judicial process against him is being railroaded because the truth is a threat to Fudge’s regime. By any reasonable definition, he’s being politically persecuted. _You_ _’re_ an even more clear-cut case. You opposed him directly; you’re a political dissident. That means _both_ of you could apply for political asylum. If we can find a place that would take you, not only would you get a fair hearing, you’d have official protection from being sent back here! It’s perfect!”

Harry was stunned. That would solve so many problems it sounded too good to be true. “That’s…that would be…do you you really think that would work?” he stammered.

Hermione bit her lip and tried to reason it out. “We’d have to be careful,” she said. “First, if we’re really serious about Uagadou, we’ll need to write to a bunch of the Ministries of Magic in its catchment area, but we’ll have to be careful what we say. We can use your name, but we’ll have to be vague about Sirius and just say he’s an acquaintance of yours who’s being denied a fair trial or something like that. The good news is Uagadou serves all of Africa, so it has a lot of countries in its catchment area.”

“And if we can find one that’ll let Sirius in, he’ll be safe?”

“Nothing’s completely certain, but if it’s anything like the muggle world, there would be a hearing to decide whether to grant him political asylum. It might be a tough sell, since all we really have is our word, but we can offer to use Veritaserum and such. If it succeeds, he’ll definitely be safe. If it fails, he’ll be extradited back to Britain.”

“I don’t like that,” Harry said.

“I know, but it’s still probably his best chance. You should at least ask him if he’s interested—and he probably will be. You can see how stir-crazy he is here.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said uncomfortably. “You think it’ll work, then?”

“If we find a sympathetic Ministry, I think so,” Hermione said. “Did you know that most countries don’t even use Dementors anymore? A lot of them don’t like the British Ministry because of that. I bet there are a few that actually care about justice and want to stick it to them. Hm…I’ll have to look them up and draw up a list. Nigeria’s probably no good. The new Supreme Mugwump is from there, so he won’t be on Dumbledore’s side. And the countries on the Mediterranean coast and South Africa wouldn’t be my first choice either. Too many close connections with Europe. We can rule out small countries that don’t have a strong enough Ministry to stand up to Britain. I mean, they might, but I’d be more comfortable with a bigger one. And we’ll want to stay out of conflict zones.”

“But how many would that leave us?” Harry asked.

“I’m not sure. Probably still about twenty or so. And we can add some more back in if we need to. I’ll draw up the list tonight so we can start writing letters. If we’re lucky, Uganda will just take us directly…though I’m not sure what languages they speak there.”

Harry nodded and then stopped. “Wait, did you just say _us_?” he said.

“Well, of course I’ll be coming with you,” she said with a smile. “With my grades, I can get into any magical school in the world, and I’ve got less and less reason to stay here with You-Know-Who running unopposed. To be honest, I had half a mind to tell might my parents let’s pack up and move to Australia already—”

“Wow, Hermione—” Harry started.

“—and if the Ministry is so corrupt that they’ll go after innocent people, I’m actually kind of scared to stay in this country…Oh God, Harry, I’m just so worried.”

“Hermione—”

“What if they try to stop you or Sirius leaving the country? If they break so many of their own laws, there’s no telling _what_ they could do. What if they try to take you straight to Azkaban when you show up just to shut you up? What if they try to wipe your memory and expel you from the magical world? Can they even do that? What if they’re already secretly working for You-Know-Who? What if—?”

“HERMIONE! Hermione, please calm down.” And then, Harry did something that he had never done before: he initiated a hug with his bushy-haired friend.

Hermione immediately slumped in his arms and started crying. “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I can’t stop. Ever. I try. I really do, but nothing works.” She sniffed and laughed slightly. “You know how I am about exams. I’m always sure I failed everything, no matter how well I do—it was my boggart, for heaven’s sake. That’s why I sent all those letters. I’m going mad just waiting here and doing nothing. I have to do _something_ to take my mind off it.”

Harry chuckled: “You’re brilliant, d’you know that? You’re doing fine.”

Hermione blushed and shook her head. “You don’t what it’s like,” she said. “I try to sit still and just _not think_ for a few minutes—you know, kind of like meditation—and I _can_ _’t do it_. Do you know how hard it is when you try to calm down and relax, and you realise you’re so wound up all the time that you just can’t stop thinking, even for a minute?”

“I think that’s who you are, though. You wouldn’t be Hermione Granger otherwise.”

“But I can’t stand it! I wish I could just switch off my brain sometimes…It’s all such rubbish, anyway. There’s no way they can convict you, legally. If there’s anybody sensible watching the proceedings…”

“Yeah, I know, but…but maybe it’s better this way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re right, I _don_ _’t_ have much reason to stay here—not if they’re going to treat me like this and let Voldemort walk all over them. I mean, what good is it if _both_ sides are gonna be fighting me?”

“So then you…want to go?” she said.

“I think…I think we need to talk to Sirius…” Then he smiled. “But sticking it to the Ministry and Dumbledore at the same time is starting to sound like a good idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling.
> 
> Parts of this chapter are quoted from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

“You really think this will work?” Sirius said.

“Well, now that I’ve found the public trial records from 1981 with you not on them, I think we have a good case,” Hermione replied. “In a similar situation in the muggle world, I’d say it was nearly certain.”

“You’ll be okay getting out of the country, right?” Harry asked.

“No trouble there,” Sirius answered. “I did it before, and they were putting in a lot more effort to find me then. Just tell me where and when.”

“As soon as we get an answer, I’ll tell you,” Hermione said.

* * *

 

The remaining days leading up to the hearing were a period of anxious waiting. They didn’t have a lot of time to get a reply by overseas Owl Post to ensure their plan would work. Meanwhile, Harry was growing anxious about how his other friends would react. The Weasleys were like the family he never had, even though Sirius was his official family, and he felt like he was abandoning them. However, once he had made up his mind, Hermione took it upon herself to keep him from talking himself out of it. He was in danger in Britain, she reminded him, and just about everybody with real power was out to get him. By his own estimation, staying there was worse than useless.

Harry accepted this and assuaged his guilt by writing letters to the Weasleys and to a few of his other friends like Neville explaining why he was leaving. He would give them to Remus to hold for him. If they were his _true_ friends, he thought, they would understand. They might be hurt, they might complain loudly, but they would understand. The trouble was, he wasn’t sure if Ron would flake off again like he did with the Triwizard Tournament. He had a tendency to take things like that personally. And if Ron was bad, he wasn’t sure if _anyone_ would be able to talk Mrs. Weasley down anytime soon.

He still almost backed out, but the last straw was Dumbledore. Harry wanted to talk to him one more time before the hearing to demand answers as to why he was kept in the dark and isolated from his friends all summer. And he let the Order know it in no uncertain terms. But Dumbledore only came once that week, two nights before the hearing, when he was already asleep, and no one came to wake him up.

“I tried to, pup,” Sirius told him, “but he didn’t stay long, and I couldn’t get away without him or Molly figuring out what I was up to.”

“Why did he even come, then?” Harry demanded.

“Just to make sure you were ready for the hearing, that the plan to get you to and from the Ministry safely was in place, that kind of thing. Oh, and to warn me that on no account was I to go with you.”

“But you’ll be able to get out, won’t you?” Harry said worriedly. “You need to be able to get out of here for the plan to work.”

“Oh, I’ll be able to. Don’t worry. I asked Remus to cover for me if there was any trouble. I felt like I was kicking a puppy when I had to tell him, but when I explained everything, he agreed it was for the best. We’re good to go for tomorrow.”

“Alright, good to go,” he agreed.

Hermione had been so excited to receive a positive reply to one of their letters two days earlier that she’d run into Harry’s room and nearly jumped on his bed to hug him. This had resulted in a very embarrassed Hermione trying to pass it off to Ron that she’d just discovered something useful for the hearing. It had taken a while to get Ron to believe her. But in passing, she whispered in Harry’s ear, “Uganda.”

That would certainly make things easier. Hermione had got hold of an almanac that said English was spoken enough in Uganda for them to get by, although the most widely-used language was Swahili, so there were no worries there. No one in the magical world really cared what she and her family did, so they could prepare to leave in the open, using that as a cover to take care of Harry and Sirius as well. Some quick transfiguration and Confundus Charms would get them through security and customs—Sirius as Hermione’s uncle Stephen, and Harry as himself, although the passport would be fake—and the Uganda Ministry had agreed to expedite the immigration process and smooth out any problems on the muggle side. It was laughably easy in retrospect. No one paid attention to a muggle-born. Even Dumbledore, while he wasn’t prejudiced, would never expect a pair of muggles like her parents to interfere in the magical world, so they had no interference. Meanwhile, Hermione carefully coached Harry about what to say at the hearing. By the night before, everything was in place.

* * *

 

Harry recognised at once that he was being railroaded when Fudge moved the hearing time up an hour without telling him. Mr. Weasley was frantic as he pulled Harry along, trying to get him down to Courtroom Ten before they convicted him _in abstentia_ , but for Harry, as he reflected on the irony of the situation, it was all he could do not to burst out laughing.

“Now, don’t be nervous, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, clearly mistaking his reaction. “Just tell the truth, and you’ll be fine. Now get in there.”

Harry was shoved inside the courtroom. He was dazed momentarily. It was the same dark stone dungeon in which the Death Eaters had been tried in Dumbledore’s memories. The same chained chair was even there in the centre of the room.

“You’re late,” said Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge. “Your hearing was scheduled for eight o’clock sharp.”

A week ago, and Harry would have been nervously apologising and trying to offer a weak justification. However, thanks to Hermione’s intensive coaching, he found himself able to think on his feet quite well. “Minister Fudge,” he said, “I can produce a witness to the fact that the notification of the time change was sent at seven fifty-five. Isn’t there some regulation about due diligence that would apply here?”

Several of the fifty or so Wizengamot members sent withering looks at Fudge, who suddenly appeared rather uncomfortable. “Well…be that as it may, you’re here now, so let’s get started,” he said. “Take a seat, Mr. Potter.”

Harry gingerly sat down in the chair. If they chained him up, he might be in trouble. Fortunately, the chains rattled, but stayed put.

_“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August,” said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once,” into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey._

_“Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley—”_

_“Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” said a quiet voice from behind Harry, who turned his head so fast he cricked his neck._

“Oh, _now_ you show up,” he said loudly enough for the Wizengamot to hear. I’ve only wanted to talk to you all summer.”

“My apologies, Harry, I was preoccupied,” Dumbledore said unconvincingly without looking at him. He stepped forward to the bench. “But let us focus on the matter at hand.”

“Ah, Dumbledore,” Fudge said nervously over the rising murmurs of the Wizengamot. “So you got the owl that the time of the hearing had been changed?”

“As a matter of fact, no, but by a happy accident, I arrived at the Ministry three hours early.”

Harry couldn’t see Dumbledore’s face, but he could imagine him giving Fudge a smug smile. He didn’t feel particularly moved to join in, though. At this point, the old man was just wasting time.

Fudge called for a second chair for Dumbledore, but the Headmaster just conjured his own: a chintzy armchair that looked calculated to annoy Fudge purely by how out-of-place it looked. Fudge then read off a long (and surprisingly accurate) description of the charge again Harry, specifically, casting the Patronus Charm in front of a muggle, and he started in on his questions.

_“You are Harry James Potter of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment._

_“Yes,” Harry said._

_“You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?”_

_“Yes, but—”_

_“And you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?” said Fudge._

“Wait a minute—” Harry said.

“Answer the question, Mr. Potter.”

“Now hold on! Aren’t I supposed to enter a plea?” Harry spoke over him.

“What?” Fudge said. “Oh, very well, how do you plead?”

“Guilty.”

All hell broke loose. Dumbledore nearly fell out of his armchair, and several of the Wizengamot members started shouting at each other. The shadowy witch on Fudge’s right, a squat, toad-like woman with a black bow in her hair, stood up with a cry of triumph: “You see? He admits it!”, to which a man Harry recognised as Elphias Doge shouted back, “Outrageous! He must be Imperiused! No one would plead guilty to that!” Fudge himself looked too shocked to be pleased, while the monocled witch on his left merely raised an eyebrow at Harry.

A moment later, Dumbledore came to his senses, and he spun around, looking Harry in the eye, just for a second. Harry felt a flash of anger and a pain lancing through his scar. Dumbledore looked away. “Harry, what are you doing?” he asked. “I have witnesses in your defence.”

The monocled witch cracked her wand, since Fudge didn’t seem to be doing it, and the Wizengamot calmed down enough for her to speak. “Yes, I would be interested to know that as well, Mr. Potter,” she said in a booming voice. “Why would you admit to a charge that could see you losing your wand and your place at Hogwarts without raising so much as an affirmative defence?”

“Because, Madam…?”

“Amelia Bones, Mr. Potter.”

“Ah. Well, Madam Bones, this hearing is a waste of time,” Harry said. “You obviously aren’t going to give me a fair trial. Changing the time and place with five minutes’ notice? Summarily expelling me, which you don’t even have the authority to do, before backtracking and giving me a trial date? You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t want me around—or rather, the Minister has; I assume he’s behind all this. I’m just making this easy for you, Minister.” Harry felt strangely giddy. He could hardly believe what he was saying. He was sure he’d be a complete wreck right now if it weren’t for Hermione’s coaching, but he was pushing through.

Madam Bones glared at Fudge. “Is this true, Cornelius?” she demanded. “Those would both be breaches of regulations, and I wonder if I would find any others.”

“Hem hem,” the toad-like witch interrupted. “The Minister isn’t on trial, Madam Bones. This isn’t relevant to the case.”

“It is if it would lead to a mistrial, Madam Umbridge. And even if it doesn’t, you can be sure I will be investigating internally.”

Umbridge flashed a predatory smile: “We can discuss _that_ at another time then. If Mr. Potter is pleading guilty, then we can move on to sentencing, Minister.”

“Minister, I would like to declare Mr. Potter’s plea invalid and enter a plea of not guilty on his behalf,” Dumbledore said quickly.

“And I contest that!” Harry cut in. “I made the decision to plead guilty with careful consideration.”

“Mr. Potter is a minor and can be overruled in legal decisions.”

Harry rolled his eyes: “Do we really need to do this, Professor? It’s not like they’re going to listen to _you_. They already kicked you out of your Chief Warlock job.”

“I would still be remiss in my duties if I did not represent you to the best of my abilities,” he replied.

“Oh, so _now_ you want to help me?” Harry asked bitterly. “Hey, Fudge! Can I dismiss Dumbledore for ineffective counsel or something?”

There was another round of shouting, this one more out of surprise than indignation. That was just about the last move anyone would expect Harry to use, even Dumbledore’s opponents. When the noise died down again, it was not Fudge who spoke, but Madam Bones again: “Mr. Potter, you haven’t accepted any counsel at all.”

“Honestly, I don’t see much point, ma’am,” Harry said.

The toad-like woman whispered in Fudge’s ear, and he said. “Well, I don’t see any problem with it if Mr. Potter agrees. Motion sustained. Dumbledore, you are relieved of duty.”

Dumbledore looked back and forth between Harry and Fudge with a mixture of betrayal and fear on his face. Even as he tried to muster a counterargument, Fudge charged ahead: “And you’re right, Dolores, we can move on to sentencing. Mr. Potter, as per your plea, you are hereby found guilty of violating the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy. Aurors, please relieve Mr. Potter of his wand.”

“Yes, about that,” Harry held up a finger in interruption as an Auror stepped forward, “you actually don’t have the authority to confiscate my wand.”

“Excuse me?” Fudge said haughtily.

“According to the ICW Convention on Wand Use of 1692, qualified witches and wizards have a right to carry a wand at all times. The main things that could _dis-_ qualify me are being in prison—and this charge doesn’t carry a prison sentence—or not having a passing O.W.L. mark in Transfiguration, Charms, or Defence while _also_ not being enrolled in any certified magical school.”

“Ah, and the Wizengamot does not hold the power to expel Hogwarts students,” Dumbledore jumped in, his face suddenly brightening. Apparently, he’d finally caught on that Harry had _some_ plan. “Excellent thinking, Harry.”

“Thank you, Professor, but I wasn’t talking about that. I’m actually withdrawing from Hogwarts.”

And the rug was pulled out from under him. Harry smiled to see the look on his face. Maybe that would give Dumbledore a clue as to what it was like for him. “Harry, I don’t know what you’re doing,” Dumbledore tried again, “but withdrawing from Hogwarts will only make matters worse for you.”

“Headmaster, if they want to expel me from Hogwarts, I’m sure they’ll _find_ a way to expel me from Hogwarts,” Harry said flatly. “As I said, I know I still need to be enrolled in a certified magical school to keep my wand.” He reached into his robes and withdrew two items: a letter and a beautiful piece of polished green mica inscribed with his name. “And I’ve accepted a place at the Uagadou School of Magic in Uganda.”

That got the loudest shouts of all.

There were so many people talking over each other that Harry couldn’t make out anything they were saying very well, but he did hear a lot of variations on “He can’t go!” It figured they’d change their tune when he threatened to leave the country, he thought. However, Fudge and Bones both called for order, Fudge cracking his wand several times. Once he did so, several comments along the same lines were repeated in a more orderly fashion before Elphias Doge managed to butt in.

“You really wish to leave the country, Mr. Potter?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see much point in staying, sir,” Harry replied.

“And that stone? Is that what I think it is?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Harry, may I see that?” he said gently.

Harry hesitated for a moment, but he still had the letter, so he wasn’t worried. He held the stone out to him. Dumbledore inspected it for a moment and handed it back. “It _is_ a Uagadou Dream Stone,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Harry _does_ have a place there.” He glanced at Harry with a hurt look, but he told the Wizengamot, “Legally, you cannot keep him from attending.”

“No! You can’t escape justice that easily, Potter!” Umbridge cried. “Aurors, arrest him!”

Harry shot to his feet. “For what?”

“Attempting to flee custody.”

“I’m not in custody,” he said, “and you can’t prohibit me from travelling overseas.” He edged away from the chair, getting ready to run. He wasn’t expecting things to escalate this fast. If the Ministry wanted to go what Hermione called “full Orwell” on him, she’d warned, they would just send him to prison on no grounds at all, like Sirius, but he’d thought he would have more time to get away.

Fortunately, it looked like Madam Bones was on his side. “Stand down, Auror,” she snapped. “Minister, Mr. Potter is correct. If his enrolment at Uagadou is good, then we have no grounds to confiscate his wand.”

“If he were sentenced to prison…” Umbridge started.

“But he was also correct there, Madam Umbridge. The charges against him today do not carry a prison sentence.”

“There are other charges we can bring,” Fudge protested. “Slander! Sedition!”

“What sedition, Minister?” Harry said with a smile. “I haven’t made a public statement all summer.”

“Your statements at the end of the Tournament in June—”

“Were made under extreme emotional distress and are therefore suspect,” he cut in. “Not confirming or denying, of course.” _Thank you, Hermione._

“The death of Cedric Diggory, then?” Umbridge said smugly.

Harry frowned. He wasn’t sure how to handle that one, but Dumbledore had it in hand: “Was officially ruled an accident. Madam Bones, have you reopened that investigation?”

“No, Dumbledore, I have not.”

“And Mr. Potter’s and Mr. Diggory’s wands? Did you check them?” Dumbledore asked.

“Objection! Defendant has dismissed his counsel,” Umbridge said.

“Sustained,” Fudge snapped. “Sit down, Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore did so. However, Bones said, “Nevertheless, I’ll answer his question. Both wands were inspected at the scene that night for any spells that were consistent with Diggory’s injuries, including the Unforgivable Curses. Both came up negative.”

No one spoke for several moments, and it took that long for Harry to catch on to Dumbledore’s game and ask, “Then, you don’t have any reason to reopen the investigation, do you?”

“No, I don’t, Mr. Potter.”

“Good. Then unless you have something else I’ve done wrong, Minister?” he said. “That you can _prove_?”

Fudge and Umbrige whispered to each other, clearly looking for something. They then realised that Madam Bones was listening in and—reluctantly, as far as he could see—pulled her into the conversation. A few minutes of heated whispering later, and they reach a consensus. From the sour look on Fudge’s face, Harry could guess it was a good one for him.

“Very well, Mr. Potter,” Fudge announced. “You are hereby fined one thousand galleons, and the Hogwarts Board of Governors will be petitioned for your expulsion unless your official withdrawal is received. Also, I warn you that any further indiscretions may result in charges that we _can_ take your wand for. Other than that…” he grumbled, “you’re free to go.”

“Thank you, Minister,” Harry grinned. “I won’t waste any more of your time.” He walked to the door, but just before he reached it, he stopped and called back, “By the way, Madam Bones, you might want to look into why there were dementors running around in Little Whinging.” He walked out before Fudge could contradict him.

When he left, he saw Mr. Weasley standing just outside the door, his face lined with worry. “Harry, what happened in there?” he asked. “I heard a lot of shouting.”

Harry sighed. He really didn’t want to mess with Mr. Weasley the way he had Dumbledore and the Wizengamot. “Mr. Weasley,” he said, “the outcome of that hearing was a foregone conclusion from the start. I just had to make sure it would still work out for me.”

“Harry, what do you mean?”

“I’m leaving, Mr. Weasley.” He produced the letter from Uagadou. “You and your family have been really good to me the past four years, but if I want to get a good education and actually learn to defend myself properly—if I’m going to stay _safe_ —it’s not going to be here—at least not as long as Fudge is around.”

“The Mountains of the Moon, Uganda,” Mr. Weasley read the letter softly. “Harry, I had no idea things were going that badly for you. We could have found another way.”

“I’m sure you would have done your best, but there’s more to it than that. I have other reasons that I can’t tell you yet. I promise you’ll find out in the next couple weeks, but for now, I can’t say anything where people might overhear it.”

“Well, then…I can respect your decision Harry,” Mr. Weasley said. “I must say I’m very surprised. And the children will be very disappointed. May I ask where this is coming from? This isn’t something I would have expected from you.”

“Actually, it was Hermione’s idea. She’s going, too.”

“Blimey! This _is_ a lot to take in…Wait a minute, you didn’t actually say how the hearing went.”

“Oh, I plead guilty.”

Mr. Weasley was stunned into a wide-eyed silence just as Dumbledore burst through the door. “Harry, come quickly,” he ordered.

“Why?” Harry said.

“Because the Minister may yet try to move against you.”

“Dumbledore, Harry says he’s leaving Britain,” Mr. Weasley said.

“So it would seem,” he replied. “We must talk, Harry, and it is not safe to do so here.”

“Well, okay, but I have to meet Hermione’s parents at lunchtime,” Harry said cautiously.

Dumbledore paused worriedly. “Why?” he said.

“To go to the airport.”

“The airport?” Mr. Weasley said interestedly. “You’re leaving by aeroplane?”

Dumbledore sighed heavily: “We will discuss this, Harry. For now, we will go to Hogwarts.”

* * *

 

Dumbledore hurried both of them through the Floo before Harry could protest, taking them to Hogsmeade, from where they took a second Floo trip to his office. The Headmaster sat heavily at his desk and stared across at Harry sadly. “Harry, why do you feel the need to leave Britain?” he asked.

“I thought I made my point pretty clear, Professor,” Harry responded. “The Ministry’s out for my blood. They want me out of the way, one way or another. If it wasn’t the hearing today, it would have been something else. Meanwhile, Voldemort wants to kill me, and the Ministry isn’t doing anything to stop him.”

“We will protect you—” Dumbledore started to say.

“I was attacked by dementors in broad daylight in a muggle neighbourhood,” Harry interrupted. “Nice job. Do you even know how they got there?”

“Alas, no. I suspect a Death Eater sympathiser within the Ministry, but I can no longer leverage my position to find a trail.”

“Then you really aren’t in a position to protect me, are you?”

“Harry, fleeing the country will not stop Voldemort from pursuing you.” Dumbledore said.

“Yeah, I figured as much, but since nobody around here seems to be doing anything, it can’t hurt to put some distance between me and him, can it?”

“Even compared with a hideout overseas, it would be safer for you at Hogwarts, or under the Fidelius Charm at Headquarters, or even behind the special wards I have set up at your Aunt and Uncle’s house.”

“Safer at Hogwarts? I doubt it. The way I understand it, the entire city of Uagadou is protected like Hogwarts is and then some. Voldemort would have to fight an entire Auror force to get in there. Besides, Hogwarts hasn’t been all that safe for me the past four years…has it, Professor?”

“Harry,” Mr. Weasley said gently, “I know a lot of things have gone wrong at Hogwarts over the past few years. Believe me, Molly and I have had fits about what’s happened to Ron and Ginny, and you’ve had it even worse. But the fact remains that Hogwarts is the safest place in the wizarding world.”

“No. The safest place in Britain, maybe, but the world’s a lot bigger than just Britain, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said. “Everyone seems to forget that, but Hermione’s done her homework. Uagadou has been threatened by seven dark lords in the past fifty years alone and repulsed all of them easily.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound safe,” Mr. Weasley said.

“Compared with Voldemort or his servants successfully breaking into Hogwarts four years in a row and nearly killing me every time?” he snapped.

Mr. Weasley blanched and backed down. Dumbledore, however, wasn’t so easily swayed. “You do not realise the consequences of your actions, Harry,” he said.

“I doubt that,” Harry said. “This was Hermione’s idea. You know she’ll have thought of everything. Or, if you’re referring to leaving Britain less protected without its ‘Saviour’, it’s the Ministry’s that’s doing that.”

There was silence for a minute. “Harry, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to leave,” Dumbledore said.

“Actually, Professor, as I’m no longer a student here, you don’t have the legal authority to keep me here,” Harry responded.

“Sirius does not have legal standing—”

“I wasn’t talking about Sirius. Look.” He held up a piece of paper. “Letter signed by my aunt and uncle saying I’m free to switch schools and leave the country with Hermione’s family as long as I don’t ever darken their doorstep again.”

Mr. Weasley examined this new letter in surprise. “How did you convince them to sign something for you?” he asked. “For that matter, _when_ did you?

“Hermione’s parents are well-off and work in a respected muggle profession,” Harry explained. “The Dursleys would listen to _them_ any day of the week.”

“But the wards, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Your presence is required to maintain them. Your relatives will not be protected.”

“You can set up new wards there, can’t you? Besides, if I publicly make a break with them and leave the country, there won’t be much reason to go after them, will there? And I _am_ making this as public as possible. _All_ of it.”

Dumbledore didn’t seem to have anything to say to that.

“Is that all, Professor?” Harry said. “Because I’d very much like to pack up to leave.”

“And you believe you will be able to travel to Africa by muggle aeroplane without trouble?” Dumbledore asked.

“We’ve got it in hand,” Harry said.

“I’ll make sure he gets there safely, Dumbledore,” Mr. Weasley added. “And You-Know-Who is smart enough not to attack a muggle transit hub…Harry’s right, you know. You can’t keep the lad here if he doesn’t want to stay.”

Dumbledore looked between the two of them and bowed his head. “Unfortunately, I fear you are right, Arthur. If I cannot change your mind, Harry, I will convey you back to Grimmauld Place. I would be remiss if I did not continue to protect you until you go.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

They made it back to Grimmauld Place in short order, where they saw Remus, Hermione, and the Weasleys standing around waiting for him. No one spoke at first as they seemed to be trying to read the expression on Harry’s face.

“So, how’d it go?” Ron broke the silence.

Harry smiled a little. It was hard leaving, but he was at least happy to get out the mess he was in. “Exactly as planned,” he said. “Fudge won’t be bothering me anymore.”

The Weasleys were stunned. That clearly wasn’t the result they were expecting. Getting him off, sure, but getting Fudge off his back entirely? That wasn’t even on their radar. “Say what, now?” Ron said.

Harry turned and locked eyes with his other best friend. “Hermione, I said it before, but you’re brilliant,” he said. “Your plan worked perfectly. All I had to do was know my rights and tell them to shove it, and they folded.”

“What?” the Weasleys said in confusion.

“Harry, that’s wonderful!” Hermione squealed. She ran to his side, hugged him tight, and kissed him on the cheek, as she had done last spring. But then, on impulse, Harry turned his head and pecked her on the lips.

They both froze and pulled apart slightly. Harry wasn’t sure where that had come from, and he worried it might have been too forward. But soon, a small smile crept onto Hermione’s face. “Harry…” she said, “I think you found a way to get me to switch off my brain.”


End file.
